


Be Careful Making Wishes In The Dark

by inverts



Series: At The Bottom Of A Wishing Well Was A Secret That We Dare Not Speak Out Loud [2]
Category: Undertale (Video Game)
Genre: AU, Body Horror, Gen, POV Second Person, Species Swap
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-07
Updated: 2016-06-07
Packaged: 2018-07-12 23:03:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,948
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7127029
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/inverts/pseuds/inverts
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Frisk and Chara have promised to guide the fallen human Asriel back to the surface. As they lead him through ruins and past traps, some of his questions about the monsters under Mt. Ebott are answered. But naturally, more arise. Such as, what the hell is going on between Chara and Frisk?</p>
            </blockquote>





	Be Careful Making Wishes In The Dark

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't expect to ever have to tag a fic 'body horror' but here we are!

The tunnel Frisk and Chara lead you down grows darker with each step, until you can barely see the fuzzy outlines of the two monsters in front of you. You almost miss them rounding a corner, but for a paw that shoots out and grabs you around the wrist, tugging you along.

Once you’ve turned the corner, a soft, purple-tinted light becomes visible ahead, casting Chara and Frisk in silhouette. You’re grateful; presumably the monsters living down here can see fine in the dark, but you certainly can’t, and the thought of being lead blindly along, even by someone as friendly as Frisk and Chara, is kind of terrifying.

You pass under a carved archway, and everything brightens, lavender and lilac stone lit up around you. Unlike where you fell, the walls here are actual architecture, not irregular, natural stone. Before you are curving stairs leading up to another doorway. The structures are falling apart, bricks cracked and missing, everything going to ruin, but it’s clear that they were created by human hands—or. Actually. Maybe that’s not so clear after all. Just how long have monsters been living here, practically under everyone’s noses?

“Have you always lived under Mt. Ebott?” you ask, as Chara all but drags you up the stairs. Their bare paws hop eagerly up each stone step, and you almost stumble trying to keep up. On the other side of the stairs, you see Frisk jump nimbly over a crumbling step. You reach the top, and Frisk and Chara share another look, before turning to regard you. 

“We were born here,” Frisk tells you.

Chara taps their chin with a finger, narrowing their bright eyes at you. “You’ve never heard of the monsters living underground, have you?”

You shake your head. You think that’s pretty obvious! “So there are more of you?” you ask, trying not to sound too excited. 

“There are other  _ monsters_,” Chara says, “but none like  _ us_.” Their nose angles up a bit, and their smile is clearly smug. You tilt your head at them. You get the feeling you’re missing something.

Frisk reaches out and tugs at the hem of Chara’s shirt, then nods their head to the doorway you’ve stopped in front of. The message is clear, and Chara bounds through. You yelp as you’re yanked along with them.

You pass through more ruined architecture, feeling a bit like Lara Croft or Indiana Jones as you walk by tall, sharp spikes, and Frisk, ahead of you, stops in front of a closed door. There are two switches set into the wall, and Frisk presses the one on the left. There's a click, followed by the grinding noise of stone moving on stone as the door slowly opens.

“It's good that we found you,” Chara says. You close your mouth, hoping they didn't notice you staring, slack-jawed, at what must be completely mundane to them and Frisk. “The traps here can be dangerous if you don't know them.” Their smirk looks more amused than concerned for your well-being, though. 

You try not to stare too obviously, awestruck, as you travel through the underground ruins, but you keep catching Chara smirking at you, and you have to snap your mouth shut, teeth clicking together. You can’t help it, though! Anyone would stare as Frisk leads you through various perils, guiding you and Chara to walk specific paths across floors with hidden pressure tiles and trap doors, disabling spike traps with casual ease, always knowing exactly which switch to press or lever to pull.

Okay. So if you’re honest, Frisk is more the Indiana Jones here, and you’re the plucky sidekick. “Why do you live in a place like this?” you ask Chara, the two of you watching Frisk sidle along a thin ledge over a large open pit filled with reaching stalagmites. They run out of footing before they reach the lever they’re angling for, but they don’t stop moving, leaning perilously out to the side, stretching one arm to grasp for it. Chara seems uninterested, but you can’t look away, terrified and amazed. Your heart jumps up in your throat as one of Frisk’s bare feet slip, their little claws knocking tiny pebbles into the abyss below, but they catch themself with an ease likely born of long practice and regain their balance. Once they pull the lever, the wall behind you opens up, and you yelp, spinning around to see the revealed door. You'd had no idea it was anything other than a solid wall.

“ _I _ don't live here,” Chara says, tugging you along through the door. You look over your shoulder just in time to see Frisk, having made their way back almost to the start of the ledge, jump the last yard or so to stable ground. You trip over your own feet as Frisk gracefully nails the landing. They trot along after you to catch up, and you try to walk normally, pretending you aren’t clumsily making a fool of yourself. It’s impossible to tell if Frisk saw you stumble, though, with their eyes almost closed the way they are. Their expression is much harder to read than Chara’s. (Speaking of, you’re sort of amazed you can read their expressions at all, your facial structures being so different.) Chara continues, “Only monsters who have nowhere else to go live in the ruins.”

You hear a low noise, and look around to find the next secret entrance or trap that Frisk is deactivating. But you find Frisk has stopped walking a few steps behind you, and your own feet go still when you catch sight of their face. Their lips are pulled back, their fangs bared, and you realize—the noise is coming from them. They're growling.

“What's the matter?” Chara asks, with the familiar tone of someone who knows the answer already. “I haven't said anything that isn't true, have I?” 

Frisk's growl increases in volume, a low rumble that you can feel vibrate through your bones. Their little paws are curled into fists, and their head is slightly bowed, their shoulders hunched. Chara's nose is pointed up by the slightest degree, their bright eyes looking down on their fellow monster. You’d say they’re smiling, but even though you can see their teeth, you don’t think ‘smile’ is the right word at all.

“Um!” Your voice is much louder than you meant it to be. Both monsters look at you, and Frisk doesn't stop growling, but the sound does quiet a little. “I just meant, why are there traps? Who… who are they meant to catch?”

Frisk's growl tapers off to nothing, their lips falling over their fangs to close into a small frown. Chara's eyebrows, such as you can call them eyebrows on someone who's entire face is covered in fur, are raised, though you can't read their expression well enough to know if it's surprise or disdain.

“Tradition, now. Nobody expects them to catch anyone anymore,” says Frisk. “They're old. From a long time ago.”

“But isn't it dangerous?” you press, thinking of how easy it would have been for Frisk to lose their footing over that pit. Can monsters fly? You're pretty sure they can't, or else Frisk would have ignored that skinny little ledge.

“Well, sure. Where would the fun be if there wasn't a little risk?” Chara's grinning, and you give a nervous little laugh. Frisk, however, is still frowning, and you fall silent. It  _ was  _ a joke, right? “Anyway,” Chara says, adjusting their grip on you, “we're wasting time! We won't get you home just sitting around here!”

You let them drag you along, leaving the subject of the traps behind. Frisk follows at a distance.

The next room you enter isn’t empty. A group of frog-like creatures gather along a wall, several feet from the defined path, ribbiting and croaking away. Upon your entrance, they go quiet and look toward you. They’re large—bigger than most dogs, even, you think—and devoid of colour, their skin bright white like Frisk and Chara’s fur. You wonder if all the monsters you’ll encounter are so pale. You think there might be some kind of scientific explanation, but you’re just a kid; you’ve got no real idea. If they get minimal exposure to sunlight, you don’t know if pale skin would be a benefit or a hindrance. And in a dark environment, wouldn’t it make camouflage difficult? 

The most important question, though, is why are you forgetting your manners? It’s rude to just stare at someone like that, even if they are monsters. You raise your free hand and wave toward them. “Hi!”

The ribbits and croaks resume. “They don’t understand you, but they’re happy for your attention anyway,” Chara informs you. Frisk, when they enter the room, also gives the frog-like creatures a small wave of greeting. Do the frogs live here? You remember Chara’s words about monsters who had nowhere better to go, and you want to ask them what they meant, but the sound of Frisk’s growl is also fresh in your mind. You decide you can bring it up later.

You and the frogs watch each other as you’re lead along. They don’t seem anything but curious, you think, and the feeling is mutual. What you’d thought were their hands held under their belly blink at you, and you’re shocked to realize those are a pair of eyes. Before you can get a closer look—is it a second creature under the frog? Is it part of the frog themself?—Chara gives you another tug and you have to catch your footing. 

You open your mouth to ask if they could try to be more careful, but they’re not even looking at you, facing forward as they lead you onward. Your mouth closes into a frown. 

The floor of the next room has crisp, red autumn leaves scattered along the cracked floor, accumulating in piles at the corners. Your spirits rise a little at the sight, and you make sure to step on the ones you can reach, enjoying the crunchy noise as your shoes crush the dry leaves. In the center of the room, roots breaking through the stone floor and pushing up jagged chunks at uneven angles, is a tree with bare branches and bark so dark it appears black. The source of the leaves, you guess, somehow still struggling along determinedly even underground and without sunlight. 

Frisk passes you, bounding ahead only to come to a stop at the tree. Their back is to you as they regard the opposite wall, two tall doorways at either end. The stone doors look like they'd be heavy, and you see no handles or knobs. (Though, doorknobs feel a bit modern for the kind of architecture you’ve been passing through.) You're grateful they're already open. 

When you and Chara catch up to Frisk, they turn around to face you. “Gotta take care of something,” they say. “Don’t leave without me.”

Before you or Chara can so much as get a word out, they’ve spun around and darted to one of the doorways. They raise both hands, their grasping fingers barely scraping the jambs with their blunt little claws, and fire flares under their palms and fingers, little silvery flames licking out. The door shakes, dust falling from the archway above it as it begins to move. Though it shudders closed slowly, dragging over the floor with the grinding noise of stone on stone, it slams into place with a bang you feel from your toes to your scalp. Frisk gives the two of you another look over their shoulder, and then runs through the remaining open door.

“Seriously?” Chara yells, dropping your hand to dart after them. After only a few steps, though, they abandon the pursuit, their ears flopping as they come to a stop. “I’m not waiting up for you!” they yell down the dark corridor where Frisk disappeared. Save for the echo of their voice, there’s no response. 

You linger at the tree, resting a hand on the dry bark. “We could follow them?” you suggest.

Chara turns toward you, crossing their arms. Their narrowed eyes look to the side, as though still seeking the door behind them. “No,” they say. “There’s nothing but spiders that way. The exit to the ruins is through the door Frisk locked.”

You bite at your lower lip. “They could have just asked,” you mumble. “I wouldn’t have minded waiting. You guys are taking the time to help me get back home. I don’t want to inconvenience you, if you have to do other stuff.” It’s a lie, but Mom and Dad have made sure to emphasize this lesson. If someone is doing a favour for you, it’s your responsibility to make it as easy for them as possible. They’re already going out of their way for you, so you don’t have the right to demand that they do so on your schedule. Your feelings do not take priority here.

Chara snorts. “Well,  _ I _ mind. Come on, we’re going.” They stomp toward you and snatch your wrist back up, and you stumble along behind them to the door Frisk shut. Chara raises their free hand as though to push it open, and the moment their claws touch the stone, an explosion of silvery sparks rains down. You flinch back, and Chara’s fingers tighten around your wrist.

“Are you okay?” you ask.

“They think their magic is so much stronger than mine,” Chara snarls. It’s not an answer to your question. They slam their palm against the door, and it spits out sparks to the accompaniment of the noise of crackling fire and the sight of smoke rising from under their fingers. 

You try to step back, but Chara’s grip on your wrist is unrelenting, their blunt claws digging into your skin through your sweater. Fire creeps out where their other paw is pressed against the stone door, flames shining silver and gold, and they growl and lean more of their weight forward. You feel sweat on your forehead under your bangs, and you try again, uselessly, to take your hand back and retreat. “Chara,” you start, unsure of what to say, your fear prompting you to attempt speech anyway.

“I’m a boss monster too! I’m just as good!” they shout, and the fire flares huge and brilliant, consuming their entire arm. You shriek, certain it’s going to burn you both to ash. You squeeze your eyes shut and raise your free arm over your head, pulling back as far as you can, bending near double in your attempt to retreat. Over the pops and cracks of fire, you hear Chara yell again. “I’ll be the hope of this world’s future!”

Even with your arm covering your shut eyes, the bright gold light fills your vision, before winking out as if it were never there. Silence falls. Save for your nose, Chara’s claws digging into your wrist, and the strain in your arm from being pulled taut, nothing hurts. You risk opening your eyes and, once you confirm the sight of your green sweater sleeve, lowering your arm. You raise your head to look up, then. 

Chara’s shoulders heave with deep, quick, loud breaths, as they stare at the door. Their fur shows no evidence of having been engulfed in flames. The stone under their hand, too, is unmarked, unscorched. It hasn't budged. Slowly, they let their hand drag down, their claws scraping against the stone. Their fingers fall from your wrist, and both their arms drop to their sides.

“It's okay,” you offer, your voice shamefully small. You remind yourself that Chara is helping you get back home. There's a lot you don't know about them, or monsters, or Frisk, but they’ve guided you this far. Even if sometimes the way they smile is scary, and even if they sometimes hold your wrist too tight, they're not—they're not mad at  _ you_. They’re not going to hurt you, or anything. “I don't mind waiting for Frisk to get back.”

“It's not okay!” Chara yells, their voice too big for the little room, and you flinch back as they raise their hand and punch the door. They scream, wordless anger, and you cover your ears with your hands, wishing you could disappear into your sweater. 

You'd thought Frisk and Chara siblings, perhaps, or good friends. But now Frisk’s disappeared without explanation, and Chara’s exploded into disproportionate rage. You just want to go home. Whatever’s going on between Chara and Frisk, it’s got nothing to do with you, and you don’t need to be so scared. You can forget about this as soon as you get home. You’re not to blame for this; you’re not the one who made Chara so angry. It’s not your fault that Chara’s this upset, leaning forward to drop their forehead against the door as their shoulders shake. 

Under their weight, the door shudders, and then slowly creaks open an inch.

Immediately they jump up, pushing the door until it’s open enough to admit the two of you, provided you squeeze through one at a time, and they turn their head over their shoulder to grin at you. “Come on, Asriel!” The grin on their face is so full and pleased, it’s almost difficult to believe that a moment ago they were furious. 

They hold out a paw to you, and you realize you haven’t taken a single step toward them. You try to smile back, and force your feet to bring you closer, tentatively placing your hand in theirs. The moment your fingers come into contact with Chara’s soft, pink paw pads, their hand closes around yours like a bear trap, and you’re being dragged along once more.

“Let’s hurry, before Frisk catches up!” says Chara, setting a fast pace through the next room. You have to trot to keep up. You’re kind of wondering if they would just keep dragging you along, were you to trip and lose your footing.

You pass under yet another archway, and your steps slow without your conscious intent. All thoughts of Chara’s flaring temper vanish, and you crane your neck back, staring. The cavern opens up around you, stalactites hanging far above, dark lavender shadows between the stone formations. The path under your feet carves a lane between buildings in varying states of disrepair, small one- or two-story homes, their windows dark, many of the ceilings caved in. You think you spot the flutter of wings flitting through a gap between two walls, but when you look, nothing’s there. Movement in your peripheral vision catches your attention, and you spin to see what you could swear is another of those giant frogs hopping over a half-demolished wall, but they don’t reappear, and not a single sound follows, no ribbit, no crush of small pebbles underfoot.

“Chara,” you whisper, trotting a little bit so you can walk closer to them. “Are there other monsters here?”

“Probably,” they dismiss, not bothering to look back at you. “They’re all too scared of Frisk to go too close to the castle, but there’s plenty of monsters who’ve got nowhere better to be than here in the ruins.” 

Your look past Chara, your eyes following the path ahead of you through the enormous cavern, all the way until ends at the biggest ruin of all—the remains of an old, underground castle. It’s exactly the archetype of a royal castle that you’d have imagined if someone told you to expect a castle—or at least, it must have been, once. One tower still stands on the left side; as you approach, Chara impatiently leading you along, you can see the collapsed remains of a second tower to your right. There are large gaps in the walls where the bricks have fallen to time and gravity. What must have once been the front doors, tall and massive, lie flat on the ground, cracked and broken, partially buried by the wedged stones of a former archway that likely framed them. Mushrooms have started to grow in the gaps between the remains of the grand panels. Chara’s bare feet step casually over the jagged rocks; even in your sneakers, you can feel the hard, broken edges digging into the soles of your feet, and you wince in sympathy, though Chara doesn’t seem to mind.

“How… how far until we reach the exit?” you ask, still at a whisper. Though you keep thinking you spy ghosts of movement at the corners of your eyes, you haven’t actually encountered a single other monster in these ruins, not since the room with the frogs. There’s a silence to the underground, but in Chara and Frisk’s company, in the smaller rooms you’d passed through before, you hadn’t noticed it. Here, in this vast open space, the tiny echoes of your sneakers scuffing along the rocks and earth magnify the lonely silence. You don’t want to spend more time here than you have to.

You don’t ask how long monsters have been living down here. For these buildings to have been erected, then abandoned to this state, you’re afraid to hear the answer.

“We have to go all the way to the other side of the mountain,” Chara whispers their reply as well, not looking back at you, though they turn their head from side to side in a way that makes you think of looking before you cross the street. You wonder what they’re checking for. 

“All along, all of this was down here...” You trail off, as the two of you pick your way through the crumbling castle. Inside, there are dusty pieces of furniture, chairs that you think would disintegrate if you tried to rest your weight upon them, a table that’s fallen on its side, one of its legs cracked in half, and the shattered remains of a vase on the floor next to it. There was once, probably, a rug along the floor, but now it’s just so many scraps of rotted fabric. 

“This is where we settled when we were first—when monsters first came to live under Mt. Ebott,” Chara says. “But eventually, it got to be too small, and people had to move further into the mountain. So they abandoned this place.” You come upon a room with a descending stairway to one side, and to the other, a hallway which is much more well-kept than the ones you’ve been walking through thus far. The ceiling has fewer holes in it, and there’s less dust on the floor. The remains of rugs and furniture have been partially cleared out of this hall, kicked into a pile in the corner. 

“Through there,” Chara whispers, indicating the stairs with a nod, “is the exit from the ruins, to the rest of the underground.”

And then they start down the hallway, pulling you along with them.

“W-Wait,” you stammer, but Chara simply yanks you along, and you stumble after them. “Where are you going?”

They stop and spin around so abruptly that you almost run into them. Their eyes are big and bright, their grin large and full of teeth. “Frisk keeps the exit to the rest of the underground sealed shut whenever they’re gone,” they tell you, speaking with a hushed, excited voice. “I’ve never been able to break that seal before, because they’re piggybacking on the old magic of the ruins. Who knows when I’ll get a chance like this again!”

“Wait,” you say again, trying to wrap your mind around what they’re saying. There’s something you’ve almost figured out—Frisk’s growl at Chara’s statement that only monsters with nowhere else to go lived in the ruins—Frisk keeps the exit sealed when they’re gone—”This is their  _ house_?” In your shock, you forget that you were whispering, and Chara shushes you. You ignore them. “We can’t go sneaking through their house! That’s—that’s wrong!”

“They shouldn’t have gotten careless,” says Chara, eyes narrowed. “They know better than to expect me sit around and wait patiently for them.” They can probably tell you’re not convinced, because they go on, “Besides, don’t you want to see what kind of place they live in? Aren’t you curious?”

Your face must betray you, then, because they smirk knowingly. This time, when they tug you along down the hallway, you follow. 

The first door in the hallway opens to a room missing two of its four walls. There are broken remains of bedframes, and a lopsided dresser with a few drawers fewer than it once had. Chara deems this uninteresting, and the two of you move on. The next door leads to a room that's mostly intact, save for a hole in the ceiling, which would be a problem if the building weren't in a cave underground, you think. This room looks somewhat lived in; there's a pile of bedding shoved into one corner, and in the other, a heap of ripped clothing, primarily in blues and pinks and purples. The bedding is coated in small, shed, white furs.

“Is this… their room?” you ask, but you're certain it is. The sight fills you with sadness. You should leave. You shouldn't have come here. 

“This isn't right,” Chara grumbles, looking from side to side, but you’re not sure what they’re searching for. Other than a vase of wilted flowers, and a cookbook that has the warped pages unique to a book that once was soaked and has since been set out to dry, the room is void of additional furnishings. “If this was all, they wouldn't be so determined to hide it from me.  _ Everyone _ knows they live in squalor.”

You didn’t know. You’d seen Frisk’s ripped shirt, compared to Chara’s neat polo; you’d seen that Frisk’s fur was messy, where Chara’s lied flat. But what was there to suggest it wasn't simply that Frisk played a little rougher, or had naturally wild fur? Why would the two have different living conditions? “Hey,” you mumble. “Let's go before they come back.” 

“No way,” Chara growls. “I'm not leaving until I figure out what it is they're hiding here.”

They drop your hand to go and kick through the pile of clothes, scattering shirts and shorts in their wake. You fidget with the hem of your sweater and watch as they growl in frustration, then overturn the bedding to see if anything is hidden beneath it. “Isn’t Frisk your friend?” you ask. “You can’t just go barging through their things like this!” But you stay standing in the doorway, making no move to stop Chara as they kick another long-sleeved shirt out of their way.

“My friend?” they repeat. They raise their eyebrows, their mouth open in a grin. “What gave you  _ that _ idea?”

Your mouth opens and closes uselessly. Chara laughs, and then abandons their rampage through Frisk’s room, not bothering to return the clothes or bedding to their original positions. They pass you as they leave the room, and you stare at the mess left behind, clothes strewn all over the floor, blankets and pillows flung out in disarray. Maybe you could...

At the creak of another set of old hinges, you spin to see Chara at the end of the hall, pushing the third and final door open. Your face screws up in an attempted glare, though you know it’s come out looking more like a pout, and you clench your fists as you yell. “I don’t want to see this anymore! I’m going back to the room with the tree to wait for Frisk!”

Chara whips around, their teeth bared, their eyes flashing. “Don’t you dare,” they growl at you. Behind them, the door continues to creak slowly open under its own momentum. 

“I don’t like what you’re doing,” you say. You attempt to sound firm and confident, the way your mom does, so of course your voice comes out meek and wobbly, more plea than argument. “It’s not nice to Frisk.”

Chara chuckles darkly, straightening up so they can look down their nose at you. “You’re such an idiot,” they sneer, amusement twisted through their words. 

Your face feels hot and your lower lip is shaking and your nose is tingling, which in turn makes it flare with pain. You want to say something, but your shoulders and neck are tense and trembling, and your brain is filled with frozen static, a whirling and incoherent blizzard where your thoughts should be. Chara’s smile turns nasty at your silence.

Why is it like this? You’ve known them for such a short period of time, and already… what’s wrong with you, that everyone who meets you looks at you this way? Why can’t you fix it? You’ve tried, you’ve tried for  _ so long _ and it doesn’t matter. Even someone who’s not human can tell right away how stupid you are. 

“Go on, then,” they mock you. “Run back to wait for Frisk. You’ll just have to come back here anyway. There’s no other exit to the rest of the underground but through the old castle.” 

You’re going to. You open your mouth to shout at them. 

Your voice disintegrates to dust in your throat as you see long, spindly, white fingers curl around the doorframe behind Chara. 

“Well?” Chara goads, crossing their arms over their chest, unaware of the shifting shadows behind them. Another hand appears, grabbing the edge of the door and pulling it further open, admitting light onto the grotesque form standing in the doorway behind Chara. Your mouth flaps uselessly around voiceless words, nothing more than a hiss of air escaping your throat. 

Chara, Frisk, the big frogs—’monster’ was the word you used, but it hardly seemed accurate. For the horrifying figure looming behind Chara, however, you don’t think any other word could be more apt. You raise a trembling hand to point, and Chara frowns at you, furrowing their brows. “What?” they demand.

The monster behind them opens its mouth—melting flesh around a gaping maw—and lets out a low, rasping wail. “Frrr, ih  _ ih iiii,  _ skkk,” it moans, scraping the syllables together, and Chara jumps, twisting to face it even as they scramble away. They come to a stop between you and the monster slowly emerging into the hallway, their arms held out as if to protect you, their fingers spread and their claws sparking with fire.

“What _ is  _ that!” Chara shrieks, and you move closer to them, grabbing hold of the back of their polo before you even realize what you’ve done. But they don’t try to shake you off, and you press closer still.

“You mean you don’t know?” you cry. 

The melting monster shambles in your direction, keening and groaning. Its form undulates and shifts like playdough under a child’s thumb, its head a skull whose flesh is constantly reforming and then dripping away, its body an asymmetrical mire of scales and feathers and fur, two limbs on one side and three on the other. When it opens its mouth and wails again, its crooked teeth look like they’re about to fall right out of its swollen, pale gums. Somehow, despite its melting appearance, it doesn’t leave any wet trail or trace where it passes over the floor, nor where its grasping fingers drag along the wall.

Chara backs up as the monster advances, and you move with them. “How would I know about a thing like this?” they demand, voice high and strained. The sparks at their fingertips are coalescing into little golden tongues of flame, but the grotesque monster before you doesn’t seem intimidated, shuffling yet closer, inch by inch. Does it even see Chara’s aggressive posture, their fur standing on end, the flames they’ve summoned at their hands? 

“I don’t know! I don’t know what other monsters look like!” you whimper, tightening your hold on Chara’s shirt.

“Not like  _ this _ thing!” They jerk both their arms up and forward, their hands framing an orb of golden fire, somehow both flickering and molten. “Stay back!” they shout.

The monster only wails again, a grating cry. “Friii, riiiih,” it rasps, reaching one of its five arms out toward you. Gobs of its flesh drip and melt down the limb, viscous and terrible. You squeeze your eyes shut, but even through your lids you can see the bright flare of fire as Chara yells.

“Stop!” 

Something slams into you from behind, and with a shriek you go down, dragging Chara with you. You hear Chara yell in outrage, and the crackling of fire rises to a roar before it’s snuffed out completely. Whatever hit you is already gone, and you hear the slap of paw pads on the floor and someone breathing hard.

“Mom,” Frisk’s voice gasps out, “mom. Shh, it’s okay.  _ Shh. _ ‘M home.” 

You open your eyes and roll to a sitting position. Next to you, Chara does the same, though their fingers splay on the floor, and they keep their their legs bent underneath them, ready to leap up in an instant. Frisk, their shirt now missing a shoulder, the edges charred black and crumbling and still emitting hazy wisps of smoke, is gently coaxing the terrible monster back. They’ve taken one of its hands in their own, their other arm gently supporting it around the approximate area of a waist, and they murmur quietly to it as they lead it back down the hallway. 

“Brought you cider,” you hear, their voice low and soothing. The other monster gurgles a reply, and Frisk adds, “Donuts, too.” 

“What,” gasps Chara, as Frisk gently escorts the monster through the door at the end of the hallway, “was  _ that_?”

Your eyes are wet. You blink quickly, hoping Chara won’t notice. “We almost hurt their mom,” you whisper. 

“That can’t be right,” Chara insists, as they push themself to their feet. “That  _ thing _ isn’t their mom. Their mom fell down years ago! She’s dust, same as mine.” 

Something in your chest twists, and you look from the closed door to Chara. Your immediate response of, ‘But they  _ called _ it mom,’ no longer seems appropriate. What do you say here? Should you apologize? You don’t think Chara would appreciate it.

Frisk re-emerges from the door, pulling it shut behind them. The latch clicks as it locks into place. Their head is lowered, and they don’t raise it to look at either of you. 

“Gonna grab a shirt,” they mumble, and your attention goes again to their now-bare shoulder. The fur is unmarked, not a single burt hair, still pristine white. Their shirt, however, matches the rest of the ruined castle now, a great piece of it reduced to ashes, the burnt edges hanging uselessly. With the loss of so much fabric, the sleeve on that side is completely detached from the rest, starting to drop and gather at their wrist. Shoulders defensively hunched, Frisk doesn’t look at either of you as they go to the door of their own room. They stop in place when they open the door, and you remember the mess Chara left. You open your mouth to say it wasn’t you, but Frisk’s shoulders sag and they go in, shutting the door behind them, and your mouth snaps shut. It might not have been you, but you didn’t take any steps to fix the problem or stop Chara, other than whining a little. Is it going to matter to Frisk that you raised a weak objection, when the result of their room being ransacked remains the same? 

“Now I know why they live here, if they have to hide that disgusting thing,” Chara grumbles, brushing off their pants. You move to stand as well, shaking your arms to get the dust off your sweater. 

You know it’s not helpful, but you can’t bring yourself to care as you grumble, “I  _ told _ you we should have left.”

Chara snorts, their ears flapping with the motion. “Still worried about being  _ nice _ to Frisk?” they ask, snickering. Then, they tilt their head, regarding you consideringly. Their grin remains, though unamused. “I wonder if you’d be so considerate of my feelings, too.”

You’re saved from having to answer—or think about the question at all—when Frisk’s door opens, and they emerge. They’ve replaced their burnt shirt with yet another blue and pink striped one, though closer examination reveals that the stripes on this one are actually made of a pattern of tiny, densely arranged flowers. They must be especially fond of those colours; most all the clothing you saw in their room was some variation of blue and pink. And, now that you think about it, mostly striped, too. 

Chara straightens, tense and stiff, their bright eyes focused on Frisk. It’s hard to tell, but you think Frisk returns their stare, frowning. You fidget as the two monsters regard each other. You’d thought—with the way they both came when you called for help, and how they both guided you through the ruins at first—but you’d been so wrong, and now you have no idea what to expect. You wish you’d never fallen down here; you don’t want to be dragged into whatever’s going on between them. It’s not your problem. You don’t want to get involved. You want to get out of here, and then you can forget all about it.

“You said your mom fell down years ago.” Chara breaks the silence at last. Frisk’s face doesn’t so much as twitch at the accusation, and Chara’s mouth twists up into a grin. “You said you didn’t have parents anymore, just like me.”

“Didn’t have parents _ taking care of me_ ,” Frisk corrects. “You heard what you wanted.”

Chara barks out a laugh. “You said she  _ fell down_!” they yell again, as though that explains everything. “That’s not a monster who fell down! That’s an abomination!”

Frisk snarls, loud and vicious, and Chara stumbles backward. When Frisk doesn’t move, though, Chara straightens and sneers. “Who even cares,” they say, planting their hands on their hips. “So you live with some kind of freak and call it your mom. It’s not like—”

You don’t get to hear what it’s not like. Frisk yells, “Shut  _ up!_” and Chara’s mouth snaps shut, their fangs clicking together. A circle of fire has burst to life behind Frisk, spheres of silver flames bigger than your head flaring and sparking as they rotate angrily, a furious halo. “Shut up!” Frisk repeats, their arms around themself, their hands gripping their elbows. Their claws are dug into the fabric of their shirt, pulling it tight. They’re shaking. “Get out,” they hiss.

Chara takes a step forward, their own fingers starting to spark, and you lunge forward and grab their wrist, yanking them back. They spin to growl at you, and you almost drop their wrist, but you remind yourself that you still need at least one of them to show you the way out. They can fight each other once you’re back home, you don’t care, but right now you need them. You press your lips together and try to meet Chara’s glare. “Come on,” you say, your voice shaking. “We—we should go.”

They hiss through their bared teeth, looking back at Frisk. A few more sparks fly from Chara’s fingertips, before they drop their arms and let you pull them away. 

Frisk remains hunched in place, the fire spinning behind them, as the two of you return to the room with the stairs. You risk another look to Chara, expecting a bitter frown, but they’re smiling. It sends a shiver down your back. 

The two of you descend the stairs in silence. Once you reach the bottom landing, Chara twists their arm to dislodge your grip, and then closes their fingers around your wrist instead. You’d laugh if you weren’t still so tense. It’s not like you need them to lead you; the stairs drop you off at one end of a narrow hallway, and there’s only one way to go. 

The hallway stretches out, unadorned lilac bricks and cracked columns to either side. The silence down here is heavy, like the earth that must be above you, and you’re abruptly reminded of the dilapidated state of the architecture you’ve been passing through. Wouldn’t a cave-in be just your luck? Your breathing speeds up a little, and you move closer to Chara. 

Finally you stop before a grand doorway. You feel this is probably what the castle entrance would have looked like when it was still new, still intact. The two doors are tall, with plain, elegant decoration, a carved relief of geometric shapes in a pattern that spreads across both of them. Chara reaches with their free hand to push one of the doors open, and nearly walks into it when it doesn’t move as expected. You stop just short of running into them and squishing them between you and the door.

“That’s hilarious,” they say in a voice that suggests the opposite, even when they chuckle immediately after. 

“What’s wrong?” you ask, though you have a pretty good idea.

Chara drops your hand, turning to lean against the door and smirk at you. “When Frisk and I came through earlier, they must have sealed it after us. I guess I can’t blame them,” they laugh. “If I were trying to hide that  _ thing, _ I would be vigilant about keeping the doors locked, too.”

“You can’t open this one?” you ask, even knowing that if they could, they would be working on it already. Didn’t they mention something about a particular lock they couldn’t break?

They shake their head, tapping a claw at the place where the doors meet. “The old spells that were cast to keep this place safe when people actually lived here are faded and gone. But boss monster magic is the strongest of all, so even now, some of it still lingers. Frisk’s a cheater; they use that residual magic to give their own a boost, with this seal.” At your look, they add, “I can’t do the same thing to break it. I would be going against the original purpose of the spells, rather than essentially reusing them.”

You huff, blowing your bangs out of your eyes. They fall right back down, of course. “So we have to go back to ask Frisk to open it?”

“Nah.” Chara gives you a lazy grin. “They’re determined to get you to the exit, same as me. They’ll show up when they’ve calmed down.” They slide down the door to a sitting position, leaning back against it. Their nubby little horns gently tap the stone when they tilt their head back to look up at you. “They might take their time, though. They know we can’t go anywhere. You may want to get comfortable.”

You look over your shoulder, but the hallway behind you remains empty. With a sigh, you lower yourself to sit cross-legged. 

“While we’re waiting, you can tell me stuff about the surface!” Chara decides, setting their hands on their knees and leaning forward. Their toes, much bigger than your own, furry on top with pink paw pads on the bottom, same as their hands, wiggle in excitement.

But… ‘the surface?’

“Why do you need me to tell you?” you ask, furrowing your brows. “You know how to get there, don’t you?”

“Of course!” Chara replies quickly. “We’re taking you there!”

“Then why…?”

“A barrier. Keeps monsters trapped underground,” comes a voice from behind you. You twist to see Frisk walking toward you and Chara, unhurried. You can’t read their expression from this distance, but you think even if they were next to you, their almost-shut eyes and the flat line of their mouth would still be a mystery to you.

“A barrier?” you repeat. They nod, continuing their leisurely approach.

“Magic. Surrounds the whole mountain. Monsters can’t pass through it,” Frisk explains. It sounds like something a grade-schooler would come up with, a magic force-field that can’t be passed through anywhere. 

But then—”Am I stuck down here, too?” you ask, your voice rising. “Am I trapped underground?” You push yourself to your feet, your heart beating fast.

Frisk has reached the two of you now. They speak, voice low and mild, “You’ve passed through it once already.”

Your mouth hangs open. Of course. If it surrounds the entire mountain, then when you fell down, you crossed it. Ugh, Chara was right; you really  _ are _ an idiot, to start panicking over nothing. Of course Frisk and Chara wouldn’t promise to take you to an exit that you couldn’t even use. 

“Welcome back,” Chara says, standing. Their tone is anything but welcoming. “I see everything is back to being sunshine and rainbows between us. Truly, I could not ask for a more forgiving partner.”

Frisk shoots them a glare. “Not forgiven,” they say, their voice low, but not yet fallen to growling. “I don’t like… don’t like how it feels. Being that mad.” They shake their head, then frown again at Chara. “So don’t make me.”

Chara’s lips pull back in a grin, and you quickly move to intervene, desperately grabbing at the previous topic of conversation. “Why’s there a barrier?” Instantly, you have both monsters’ attention, and you shrink back. “I mean, it’s not fair that you’re trapped down here.”

Being faced with Chara’s toothy grin fills you with the urge to retreat, but there’s only brick at your back, and Frisk blocking the way back to the ruins. “A long time ago, humans and monsters lived together on the surface,” they begin, as though telling a story, or fairy tale. “But the humans were scared, and started a war with us.” There’s venom in their voice, and their fangs catch the light, glittering as they smile. “Guess who won.”

“Human mages created the barrier,” Frisk picks up without missing a beat, and you spin to face them. “Cast a curse on the royal family.”

“Like rubbing salt in a wound,” Chara says, their voice reveling in the bitterness of their words. You’re getting whiplash from going back and forth between the two of them, and you cringe at the unpleasant smile on their face. “So that’s why,” they chirp, “I’ve never seen the surface!”

“I,” you stammer. The history lesson you’ve just received is so obviously biased and abridged, and you want to demand more details—why were the humans of the past afraid of the monsters? What kind of curse did they cast on the royal family? Since when could humans use magic? But, standing between two kids your age who have never been able to leave the mountain, whose only glimpse of the sky their entire lives may well have been through that stupid, tiny hole you fell through, all you can manage is, “Isn’t there some way to get rid of it?”

Chara’s eyes curve into pleased crescents. “There is,” they say. “Frisk and I are working on it.”

“If I can help, just let me know!” you offer quickly. You know it’s not your fault, you have nothing to feel guilty about—obviously the war between humans and monsters happened so long ago that nobody even remembers it anymore, and there’s nothing you could have done to prevent it. But, having grown up trapped below the earth thanks to humans, Chara and Frisk still offered right away to help you find your way home, without asking a thing in return. It’s overwhelming. You’re not sure you could have done the same, were your positions reversed.

“We will,” Frisk assures you, and you give them a relieved smile. Maybe, in some small way, you can repay them for guiding you home.


End file.
